


Nameless, But Theirs

by AcaigaWrites



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-20
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-08 13:34:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18895630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcaigaWrites/pseuds/AcaigaWrites
Summary: Emotionally drained from the events in Utah, Rose turns to the Doctor for comfort.





	Nameless, But Theirs

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing Nine, but I'm sure there will be many times to follow.

"Lord and saviour in bed then, is he?"

Rose rolled her eyes at the Doctor as she walked into the library, donned in her silk pyjamas. The fire blazed in its hearth, casting the surrounding area in a golden glow and radiating warmth, irresistably tempting to the coldness in Rose's feet. The Doctor sat in an armchair, a heavy tome laid out in his lap. He wasn't wearing pajamas, but he had discarded the leather jacket to the coffee table in front of the chair.

She stood by the fire, warmed her hands in its heat and shivered with appreciation. "Yeah. The TARDIS put his room quite far from here."

"Sure that's a shame for you."

Her gaze met his, and the retort died on her tongue at the glimpse of mirth in his eyes. "In all fairness, it's not. Don't much like the guy to be honest. Thinks a lot of himself, maybe too much. I just..."

"You _did_ invite him onboard, Rose."

"I know. Can I just say, though?" She looked back to the flames, watching them dance over the coals. "I did it 'cause I wanted to feel clever. S'that alright? Just once, I knew something more about the universe than some smart kid, and it felt _good_. Maybe I'm just being selfish."

"No, you're not. I think it's very human of you, if anything."

"Leadin' him on, though. That's wrong. I didn't want to give off the wrong impression or anythin', but I'm learnin'. Just wanted to prove it. Maybe to myself, I dunno."

At some point in the conversation, she'd begun to wring her hands distractedly; a little habit of hers to stop nerves, or anxiety. The Doctor had evidently noticed, as he'd set his book aside - _The Jane Austen_ _Collection_ \- and walked to her, taking her hands and separating them before she gave herself a friction burn.

"For what it's worth," he began, then paused briefly, "I don't think you have to prove yourself to anyone. I've seen your capabilities, Rose."

"Yeah, well, it's easy to jus' say that, isn't it?" She tried not to roll her eyes, but failed dismally. The Doctor was looking at her with this strange expression; the type that looked so emotionless, yet like he was trying to say a thousand things all at once.

"Not just saying it. You don't know the half of how special you are, Rose."

She started, the contrast of the off-handed comment and the intensity in his eyes spooking her. "Doctor, I..." Rose trailed off, realising how her hands were still clutched gently in his. She made no move to remove them, and neither did he. "I dunno how you can still think that, not after today. All those people, Doctor... 'cause I couldn't stop myself from touchin' that bloody Dalek."

His blue eyes flashed. "Rose. You were manipulated, tricked. Don't you feel responsible for the doings of a murderous automaton."

Angry tears sprung to her eyes. Furious, but not sure at what, she lifted a hand away from the Doctor's to wipe them away, grateful that she'd showered all mascara away thirty minutes prior. "Doesn't change anythin' though. They're still dead."

"Maybe so," the Doctor said, his voice softening. It was frightening, almost, how he could change from cold and calculating to gentle and warm in a matter of seconds. "But what we need to accept is that it happened. We can't bring them back, but we can move on. And the only person we should ever blame is Henry Van Statten and his ridiculous God complex."

A tear fell, and she couldn't help the little gasp as the Doctor raised a thumb to wipe it delicately. There was something so tender about the motion, so gentle, so kind.

Rose burst into tears.

The Doctor wasn't fazed, taking it all in his stride and stepping forward to take her into his arms. She pressed her face against his neck, disregarding any physical barriers they'd constructed between one another, dampening his skin and the collar of his black jumper. One arm around her waist and the other hand in her hair, he mumbled soothing words, almost slurred in the low-toned accent of his. The hand about her waist began to trace docile patterns just beneath the hem of her top on the warm skin, and she leant into his touch, waiting for the tears to begin to subside.

He rocked her slowly in the firelight, soothing the ache she felt, and part of her wondered if something within him craved the contact as much as she did.

"Thank you," she mumbled, and proceeded to stifle a yawn. "Sorry. 'M really tired, but I couldn't sleep."

The Doctor stilled for a brief moment, then stepped back from her. She instantly missed the comfort, despising the coldness that ensued, and just watched with slight disappointment as he sank back down into his armchair. What she didn't expect, however, was for him to hold out his hand.

"C'mere," he said, more of a question than command.

"Are you sure? I don't wanna -"

"It's no issue for me, Rose. I want to know you're happy. And if that means holding you like this, I can't say I'm exactly unhappy about it."

With all the invitation she needed, Rose climbed into his lap. As she rested her head in the crook between his shoulder and neck, the Doctor's arm set about her waist and held her firmly against him. She allowed herself to close her eyes, delighting at their proximity, and shivered pleasantly when the Doctor pressed his lips to her hair.

"Better hope our young lord and master Adam Mitchell doesn't find you here like this-"

"Don't you even mention that name while we're like this," Rose interrupted, her smile betraying the false irritation in her words.

"Oh? And what exactly is 'this', Miss Tyler?"

"Us. Just... Us." The Doctor gave a satisfied hum against her crown, and she nestled closer to him.

"Us. I like the sound of that."

It might have been nameless, but it was theirs.


End file.
